


Off the Wagon

by thestarsjustblinkforus



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s07e17 Lies My Parents Told Me, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsjustblinkforus/pseuds/thestarsjustblinkforus
Summary: The soul kept the demon from ripping Wood to shreds, draining him dry, but he hadn’t been able to resist completely. Demon's not as strong as Soul, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get a few licks in whenever it can...





	Off the Wagon

Drip, drip goes the water that's supposed to be gone. She got that leak fixed last year. Shoddy job that bloke did… slap, slap on the concrete floor…

Clink, clink goes the shackles chaining him to the wall.

He can still feel Wood's blood slithering through his veins, firing up the demon, making him want more of that rich dark seductive sweetness spilling down his throat, warming him, making him feel…

Stop it.

He hadn’t wanted to drink from Wood, not really. He had wanted to scare him. Mark him. Humiliate him. He had spat most of it out right there on the dusty floor of _Robin's House O' Crosses_.

Most of it.

The soul kept the demon from ripping Wood to shreds, draining him dry, but he hadn’t been able to resist completely. Demon's not as strong as Soul, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get a few licks in whenever it can.

And it's always going to be like that.

_So get used to it._

His tongue probes his gums, slides across his teeth searching for more. He hadn't swallowed enough. That's why this is so hard. Same thing happened with the boy. He had taken just enough to get revved up, just enough to wake the demon. And now it's sitting on his shoulders asking where the fuck its dinner went.

Clump, clump go ridiculously oversized shoes upstairs.

After leaving Wood he had wandered the streets for hours, trying to shake off the bloodlust he had invited back into his system. The last thing he had wanted to do was go back to the house, but there had been a girl in a low cut blouse all alone…

He'd circled her from the shadows three times before he realized what he was doing. He was making sure she really was alone, that the slayer wasn’t gonna show up and crash the party. He was stalking her.

He had come up right behind her, the demon urging him on. He had been so close he could taste the scent of her perfume… A breath away from having her and he snapped himself out of it. He jerked himself away before the demon took over and grabbed the girl by the shoulders and-

There were chains at the house.

He ran.

S.I.T.s upstairs.

He slowed.

 _you could take them,_  the demon had whispered.  _it'll be easy…_  Over and over again,  _you can do it…pick them off one by one…it's a sodding buffet of ripe young things bursting with life… and the blood… slayer blood… watered down perhaps, but remember what it felt like… how it tasted…_

He had clenched his jaw, his fists, as he made his way slowly up the sidewalk and onto the porch. He had fought against his muscles shifting into predatory bunches quivering with readiness as he pushed open the door.

One of the girls had been coming down the stairs. She froze when she saw him and he had stopped too. He could see the door to the cellar wide open and waiting just a few feet away, but he had looked at the girl again, instinctively focusing on that soft smooth slope where neck met shoulder, searching for an artery.

_right there, right there is where you can go…_

_you're still a vampire. this is still what you need. this is still what you do._

A throat had cleared. He had turned his head, tearing his gaze from all that skin.

Kennedy.

Kennedy watching him with narrowed eyes, her fingers wrapped around a stake. He swore the girl slept with them.

_you can have them both… she's not as ready as she thinks she is… not as good as she thinks she is… sh-_

He had turned on his heel and continued down the hallway, down the steps. He had thrown himself on the cot and clamped the shackles down hard around his wrists.

He's been here ever since listening to the house fall apart again, listening to Kennedy tell the girls what had almost happened, telling himself all he has to do is wait it out.

Human blood is too potent. It makes giving in too easy.

And he's not going to do that. Because he can’t. Because that's not who he is anymore.

Black leather creaks as he shifts into a less uncomfortable position on the rock hard cot. He looks at it sitting heavy on his arms, the cuffs kissing the metal shackles. Over twenty years of wear and tear and rumbles and it still looks as good as it did the night he pulled it on for the first time. The coat hasn’t changed a bit, hasn't aged like he hasn’t aged, the fit's still good but it feels wrong on him now. It's not an extension of his body anymore. It's just a costume. Like the blue shirt. He took it back from Wood because he can't be who she needs him to be without it. He needs it to play the part. It's just not convincing otherwise, and the last thing he wants Buffy to do right now is worry about him and whether or not he's got her back.

_but who's got yours?_

"I can take care of myself."

_yeah. excellent job with that one by the way. getting' y'self turned into a wind up toy for the first, gettin' kidnapped, tortured. moonin' after the slayer. again. soddin' chip's not keepin' you from the hunt anymore an you're drinkin' pig's blood from a plastic bag and lettin' little girls use your worthless carcass for a tackle dummy._

_excellent._

_no wonder she bitch slapped you in front of everyone._

"Piss off."

_Deep down you know she knew what Wood was up to…_

"No she bloody well didn't…" he growls at the empty air, clenches his fists around the chains, testing their strength.

_think about it, you stupid git. what does she need you for? good for nothing… she said it herself… she doesn't need you… once the slayer groupie heals he'll try it again-_

"I'll kill him first-"

 _kill_ her… _i t'll be a nice ending to this whole big mess and when you're done we can figure out a way to get this thing out of you ourselves and you can go back to being what you were…_

"No."

Footsteps down the hall, heels clacking on the wood floor. Buffy. They stop at the top of the stairs.

_don't tell me you didn’t miss it, the way it tasted, the way his fear spiced it up and made it burn as it went down…_

Creak goes the door. Click, clack goes her shoes on the cellar steps.

_You can have more… you can do it … she doesn't suspect you… you're in the perfect position to strike…_

She steps into a puddle of moonlight. She says "Hi," and stands there with her concerned eyes. He keeps his on the floor, focuses on the toes of her boots sticking out from beneath the cuffs of her jeans. They're muddy.

"You just get back from patrollin'?"

"I was looking for you."

"All this time?"

"No, I came home for a while. Couldn't sleep. Went out to look for you. Like three hours ago-" She sits down beside him on the cot.

_yesssss…_

He stiffens. She doesn’t notice. He wants to tell her to go away. He opens his mouth to do it, to warn her. Nothing comes out.

"I just got back and Amanda told me she saw you… I swear no one sleeps in this hou-"

"I scared her. The girl."

He can't look at her. He's ashamed. He's hungry. He stares at the lines of his palms. Wood's blood in the creases. He fights the urge to lick. He curls his hands into fists.

_do it…_

"Maybe a little. She's okay though… She said you looked… strung out-"

"Well, that's it then. So much for playin' teacher. They're afraid now. Not gonna trust me whe-"

"They'll trust you because I trust you."

He shakes his head, he wants to tell her not to, wants to tell her it's taking everything he has not to turn and grab her, throw her down, cover her body with his, drink and drink and drink until there's nothing left.

"Spike…" Her voice is unbearably soft. She comes even closer and the demon whispers, _take her…_

He swallows, trying to ignore the voice, trying to ignore the pulsing in his gums, the throbbing in his jaw.

She reaches up to touch the gash on his forehead. She does it without thinking, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Ever since he told her about the soul she's been doing this. Touching him.

It hurts.

Her eyes and hands constantly searching his skin for wounds after every battle, every training session hurts more than any cut, any bruise, but he never says anything, never reminds her that he heals as quickly as she does.

_because you're afraid she'll stop and she's got you believing that that would be even worse. she touches you when she shouldn't, stands too close when there's no reason to, holds your gaze even though she knows you're trying not to look. she does it because she still wants you to want her… she wants you to burn… because she knows if you do you'll do anything she asks…s he's still got you by the bollocks and you don't even care…_

She puts her hands on the restraints, her thumbs resting over the catches.

"You're shaking."

She's too close. He can smell the blood beneath her skin that's as pale as the moon and softer than anything he's ever touched…

_so stupid, you are… how many times were you surrounded by it… how many times did you have her naked in your arms, under your hands, your mouth and you never took her… never tasted… you heard me calling, you felt me coming and every time you refused to let me have my way… you can't refuse me now… you tasted human blood tonight… you're still hungry…_

Clink.

_take her now…_

"Don't" he whispers, pulling his wrists away from her hands. "Don't unlock them." She rolls her eyes and reaches again.

"Spike, stop being such a martyr. Amanda's fine, she's sugar bingeing right now with the rest of the girls, you didn’t do anything wrong. I'm not happy about what happened with Wood but he pushed you to it. I know you were defending yourself. I'm not mad, you don’t need to do thi-"

"I bit him Buffy."

She stares at him.

Her hands hover over the shackles.

"I drank from Wood. Not a lot, but enough to… "

_you're a fool_

"…get away from me… I can't…"

She doesn't move and he stares at her, looks into her eyes, trying to make her understand, trying to make her  _go_...

"I almost took the girl. Right there on the stairs. In your  _home._ "

The demon is silent and waiting.

She still doesn't move.

Tears blur his vision, burn his eyes.

"I want to  _hurt_  you Buffy… _I want to hurt them all_..."

She slowly reaches out and unlocks the shackle on his right wrist.

"Didn’t you hear me I-"

"I heard you."

She clamps it down on hers.

"Buffy…"

"You won’t hurt me Spike."

She wraps the chain around her forearm, pulling him so close he can feel her breath on his lips, can hear her heart.

"I never told you what really happened when I was with the men who made the first slayer. I told you they wanted to give me more power and that I refused..."

_do it, do it now…_

"Buffy-"

"The first slayer was part demon, Spike. They forced it into her… they put the evil power inside of her so she could fight it. It's been in slayer blood all this time, but it's not as strong as it was then… the evil stuff… so they tried to give it to me… to make me stronger… It was inside me, Spike. I had the demon inside me and it was fighting with my soul… I don’t know how she was able to stand it, how she lived with that inside of her, tearing her apart…" She reaches out with her free hand, touches his mouth. Her fingertips fall between the well of his parted lips and graze his fangs. He hadn't realized he had changed.

_do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now-_

"I understand you now, Spike, I understand what's inside of you. I understand that you're at war with yourself. And I understand that you chose it. For me. I know it's hard to fight it, I know it hurts. But I also know that you can control it. You can control it like the first slayer controlled it. Because you're strong, Spike. Much stronger than I ever gave you credit for." She leans forward. Her hair slips off her shoulder like a silk sheet sliding off a bed and there it is. Her neck. Naked and vulnerable and waiting. "Trust me when I say I trust you…"

He opens his mouth.

"Trust yourself. You're stronger than the demon… you always have been and you always will be."

He closes his eyes.

He presses his mouth against skin where neck meets shoulder, tastes it with his tongue.

He kisses her there, sucks gently without breaking it and she lets him.

He sucks harder. His hands cup her shoulder blades.

She pulls at the chain, pulls him closer with a soft clink and he remembers the handcuffs, remembers how she had hid the marks on her wrists with long sleeves while he had stared at his and relived it over and over again, every kiss, every thrust, every scrape of metal against skin…

She kisses his snarling mouth, his fangs scrape against her lips. They retract before he can draw blood, and he forces the demon away once and for all and concentrates on this instead, on her tongue and her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands on either side of his face.

She holds him while they kiss and it's never been like this.

It's been dirty and rough, a push-pull of bodies and tongues and fists.

It's never been soft.

He lifts his head. He looks at her and her eyes are dark, she's breathing slow heavy breaths and he wants to take them into his mouth, wants to make them come faster, wants to catch a moan and feel it vibrate in his throat, shake the demon right out of him for good…

He stares at her, at the marks he has made on her neck.

She'll wear a turtleneck tomorrow, a scarf, a jacket with the collar turned up.

"Spike…"

She hadn't meant for him to touch her like that. She had just been trying to prove a point, to help him. He crossed the line. That's what she's going to tell him. He doesn't need to hear it, he already knows.

"I'm alright now…" he clears his throat, moves away from her. "Demon's gone." And it is. It slunk off in disgust, muttering what a fool he is, how pathetic and weak and whipped. He undoes the latch at his wrist and holds the metal cuff in his hands. It falls open in a filthy smile. "Thanks for the distraction." He puts it down and gets up, gets away from her.

The pipe drips. Little slapping sounds, slippery and dirty, smacking kisses on the concrete.

"Spike…"

"You should get that fixed again unless you fancy havin' a swimmin' pool in your basement again."

It's silent upstairs. It's silent inside of him.

"Spike."

"I'm fine, Buffy. Demon's at bay, wounds are already healin'…"

She doesn't say a word. She keeps her eyes on his and slowly lays her free hand down in the cold cradle of the shackle he has left open on the bed.

"Is this another test, luv? 'Cause I think we've already established that I can fight the demon, fend him off and all tha-"

She closes it with a soft clink that echoes.

"What are you doing."

"I don’t know."

He stares at her.

"What do you want from me, Buffy?"

"I don't know."

"What do you  _want_?"

"I don’t know."

He swallows, looks at her lips.

"This is completely unfair, you know that right?"

She nods.

He leans against the stairway railing, looks at her sitting there on his cot, chained to the wall waiting. For him.

"You're confusin' the hell out of me…"

"When I figured out what was going on, when I realized… I said I wasn't ready for you to not be here and I meant it, but when I said that I thought that I would be someday. I don't know now… I'm used to you being here, I'm used to you-"

"You're used to me wanting you." She doesn't say anything. He crosses his arms. "What if I don't anymore?"

She blinks.

"What if I'm over you?"

"... Are you?"

"Of course not."

He kneels down on the floor in front of the cot. He undoes the shackles, tries not to touch her wrists, her skin. His eyes catch on his kisses emblazoned across her breastbone, her neck, her shoulder. He's shaking. He's in the same position he was half an hour ago. He's trying to tell her to go and the words still aren't coming. He's fighting with himself, desperately trying not to take what's right in front of him.

He's going to lose. Because he always loses when it comes to her.

His hands are already on her hands, they're already sliding up her arms and now they're on her shoulders. Blue eyes on green. Cold flesh on warm.

"Stop me," he whispers.

She doesn't move.


End file.
